


The Curb

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David and Billie struggle to say goodbye after the TV Choice Awards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curb

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this is utterly terrible. It was written too quickly in a state of near-delirium after a stressful night by a somewhat sleep-deprived me. Meant to be quick and dirty, just to satisfy an immediate need for RPF regarding [this](http://tenscupcake.tumblr.com/post/108393364271/new-old-candids-of-billie-piper-and-david-tennant) newly emerged photoset. Amber suggested any and all things smutty.

The last few soft thuds of her bare feet against the concrete (and the last one on the asphalt) are a fitting silent goodbye to the evening, he thinks. A sharp contrast to the melodious greeting of her heels several hours before, carrying hope and possibilities for the hours to come with every step. The night has tapered off with the sound, come to this painful consistency of their high-profile get-togethers – the inadequate, quiet goodbye that he never wants to happen but almost always does.

“See you soon,” he says almost under his breath, neutral. One hand tightens around the door of the car, fighting for a grip on something hard and cold to make him forget the soft, warm give of her skin he’s felt too many times tonight. The other’s securely clenched in the pocket of his jeans, otherwise it would still be touching her, too.

A sinister thought churns in his mind, though it’s hazed over by whatever alcohol is left in his circulation. Something that made him remove his hand from the small of her back as they walked toward the street and any loosely formed idea of taking her home with him tonight to fade. It always happens a certain way, with her. There are these perfect nights when she lets him touch her all night and give the press the sense that they’re a proper couple, only to pull back at the end of the evening and leave him reeling from the emptiness at his side.

The way her tongue swipes over her bottom lip and her lids droop a bit over glassy eyes makes him dare to think tonight won’t fall into that pattern. But it could just be the wine.

“Goodnight.” He just leans down to kiss her cheek, the only gesture of a gentleman he can think of on the spot without the breasts pressing against his chest that a hug would entail. He’s already had more than he can take of _those_ this evening, what with her swooping white top practically inviting him to bury his face between them.

When his well-intending lips approach her, though, she turns into them, his quick, platonic peck on the cheek ending up as a brush of their mouths together. Her lips are wet and warm and inviting as ever but he turns away at the ingrained knowledge of the surrounding cameras, lips resting against her cheek until he’s sure that’s the photo they snapped. Innocent kiss on the cheek. He lingers there too long, because he always seems to forget just how good it feels to kiss her, any part of her. How _right._

“Bill, there are cameras everywhere.” It’s only just loud enough for her to hear.

His lips press into a tight line as he nods for her to climb through the door.

“C’mon, just ride with me.” Her mouth turns up into a playful smirk. The flames of longing already burning under his tongue and below his belt lick away at his self-control at the double meaning behind her words.

The more they stand here at the curb in indecision, though, the more this will look suspicious, especially after a lengthy kiss on the cheek that passed the line separating platonic and amorous. So rather than admonish her he concedes, nudging her inside and climbing in next to her and hoping this will make the headlines as a planned carpool in the papers the next morning. No one but them has to know where they’re going, anyway.

Oversized lenses close in around the windows and flashes fill the car so they keep their distance for a time, on opposite sides of the backseat and definitely not looking at each other.

Only once it’s only the night sky and the blur of city lights outside the car does she stop fidgeting with her shoes and he stuffs his phone back in his velvet pocket and finally _sees_ her. Not as an ex-costar or television’s favorite actress but as _Billie_ , and they’re finally alone and she’s looking at him like she might devour him whole. Maybe he’s looking at her the same way.

With a click and a whoosh she frees herself from the seatbelt and scoots into the unoccupied middle seat. Neither of them wastes any more time, continuing the failed kiss from the street with eager mouths and greedy hands.

It all escalates too fast for him to return to his earlier train of thought so he just drinks her in, half her leg draped over his thigh and her hands pulling on this mistake of a blazer and the intoxicating taste of her tongue in his mouth. After such a long evening of close photo-ops and hugs with his arm draped over her shoulder and friendly waist grabs – but no skin, never any proper skin – his hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt instinctively as he pulls her closer.

Only a distant whisper in the back of his mind worries about the third occupant of the vehicle until one of her wandering hands lands on his crotch to find him already embarrassingly hard.

“Bills, the driver.” He gasps as his hand covers hers and somehow only makes it worse. He figures the bloke up front already expected the snogging, but this is something else entirely.

“He can’t see from this angle. These chairs are too high.” She kicks the row in front of them with a quick jerk of her bare foot.

Somehow, that’s all she needs to say to get his fly down and her hand in his pants.

He hisses in a sharp breath as her fingers wrap around him and even with only the dampness of her soft hand as lubrication the gentle tugs of her fist make him dizzy. His head drops down to hide his face from the rearview mirror and her lips latch onto his pulse point when he curses in her ear.

In takes less than a minute to reduce him to sloppy jerks of his hips into her hand and muted grunts against her neck. She breathes a hum of pleasure against his cheek as he comes messily over her fingers.

His hand trails up her thigh as she frees her hand and wipes it on his jeans before doing up the zipper, but her hand closes around his wrist before he can make any progress. His mouth hangs open in confusion, bottom lip pouting at her sudden change of heart as he searches her eyes for an answer.

“No time,” she whispers, shaking her head before nodding out the window to their left where her building awaits.

“Oh, God, Bill,” he groans in frustration as they come to a stop. “If I had known we wouldn’t have… I would never have – ”

“Dave,” she breathes before kissing the corner of his mouth softly and chuckling despite herself. “Stay with me tonight.” Her fingers run down the line of his open collar, tracing his collarbone and dipping under the fabric to scratch his chest.

“Only if I can return the favor.” He smiles with a not-at-all subtle glance down her shirt.

“Only reason I’m inviting you.”

It’s her joke that makes him stop worrying about breaking the silent pact that she single-handedly enforces, not to do this every single night. Because nothing could be further from the truth: no matter what happens upstairs tonight they’re still going to be mates in the morning.

“I feel objectified, Piper.” His eyebrows shoot up in mock outrage.

“That a no, then?” She raises one eyebrow in response before the door nearest to her opens and she slides towards it without a backward glance.

Truth be told, all three of them know he’s not going to stay in the car.


End file.
